


Meeting the Parents

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse Drabbles - General [30]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Children, Fluff, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock find out their third child, Hamish, finally has a special someone. And they want to meet him over the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This version of Hamish Watson-Holmes is a "creature", like Sherlock. They are Nymphae (a derivative of nymphs), and Nymphae tend to mate for life.

”Why didn’t you tell us you found someone! This is wonderful news!” John exclaimed with great pride. Even Sherlock couldn’t help but crack just the tiniest of smiles.  
      ”So, man or woman?”  
      “Dad…”  
      John sighed. “I want to know so I don’t buy the wrong kind of gifts.”  
      “It’s ah… Well, a man,” Hamish said, fidgeting in his chair uneasily. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock, of course, who silently catelogued the strange behavior. “But you don’t need to buy him anything for Christmas. He… He’s not exactly that sort. Who likes gifts.” Soon after the conversation drifted to other things, but only after Hamish promised to bring his newly found mate to Sussex to visit with his parents for the holiday.  
      That evening, Hamish was back in 221B, pacing the floor in a panic as his brother sat working on an article for some travel magazine. “Sit down, you’re distracting me,” he said, peering up from behind his computer.  
      Hamish sat in his chair and bounced his knee. He tapped his hand on the arm of the seat impatiently. “What am I going to do, Ange? I can’t take him to meet father. Dad, fine, okay. He may see reason. But father?! He’d kill him!”  
      ”No he won’t.”  
      ”Oh yes he will.”  
      “Really,” Angelo said, leaning back in his chair and peering at the screen to check for mistakes. “He won’t. Why don’t you just go down to the basement and, I dunno, conduct an experament on those thumbs you’ve been collecting.”  
      ”Come with us,” Hamish pleaded. “You’re father’s favorite. He’d never attempt anything with you there.”  
      Angelo sighed, turning to look pointedly at his brother. “I can’t. I’ve got this thing in Rome. Remember, the Vatican’s Christmas thing.” He tried his best to give his big brother a reassuring smile. “Trust me, it’ll be fine. You could firecall Harriet. I think she and Rowan might have some time off.”  
      ”They’re aurors. They never have time off,” Hamish said, waving a hand and dismissing the idea. “I’ll just have to… Ah. I’ll find a case! One so convoluted there’s absolutely no way I could have it solved by Christmas!”  
      Suddenly the door downstairs slammed. Angelo leaned forward again to close his computer and pack his things up. “That’s my cue,” he said. “Sounds like he had a terrible time of it today.”  
      Feet stomped up the stairs before the gruff looking man appeared in the doorway of 221B. “I swear,” said the dark haired angry Irishman. “If one more blasted copper tells one more bloody dumb irish joke I’ll set the entire Scotland Yard on fire! I’ll feckin burn ‘em all!”  
      Angelo gave him a sympathetic smile as he reached up and loosed his tie. “Hey Seamus…”  
      Angry brown eyes turned to the youngest Holmes and he managed to get a small smile on his face. “Sorry. It’s just… they’re all so damn…”  
      “I know. Just try to keep your temper in check. After all, it wouldn’t be any good for a DI to be heard plotting arson against his fellow officers, now would it?”  
      Hamish snickered. “Not like they would be able to sort out who did it. Since uncle retired they can’t seem to get anything right without us.”  
      “Damn straight,” Seamus muttered as he passed into the kitchen, still grumbling about his terrible day at work.  
                                                                                **o0o**  
      Hamish had tried to suffocate himself in cases. Seamus had even helped by bringing him the most difficult ones he could find. But alas, he was unable to escape a few days worth visit to Sussex.  
      And of course since both Sherlock and John now knew he’d found a mate, he was obligated to bring Seamus with him.  
      “I don’t see why you’re so worried,” the DI said, patting Hamish on the knee when they’d pulled up in the driveway. “I mean, you met my folks and it really wasn’t all that bad.”  
 ”I met _your folks_ because they hired me to find your sister.”  
      “Which you did. And damn fast, too. Now, let’s get this over with so we can get back to London.” Seamus grinned, giving Hamish another pat on the knee before pulling the keys from the ignition and climbing out of the car. He went around back to get their luggage while Hamish climbed out, nervous as a kitten. Every possible variable to this situation was crossing his mind a mile a minute. He knew he may be able to talk John around… But his father. Oh… no. No. No. No.  
      ”C’mon then, ya beanpole. Go say hello. I’ll just get these outta the boot,” Seamus called from the back of the car. Hamish nodded, adjusted his coat and walked up the stone path to the door.  
      He had just raised his hand to knock when the heavy wooden door was pulled open and the gray haired doctor had pulled him into a hug. “Hamish!” John exclaimed happily before turning his head to shout back into the cottage. “I told you he’d make it!”  
      The shorter man tried to peer around, looking for his son’s muggle mate, but Hamish kept moving to block him. “Well, where is he then?”  
      ”Dad,” Hamish said, putting a hand on each of his shoulders. “There’s something you need to know.”  
      ”You’re not pregnant already are you?” he asked in shock.  
      ”No no. Nothing like that. It’s just… Seamus, he’s ah…”  
      ”Oh, his name is Seamus. That’s a good name. Your grandparents went to school with a boy named Seamus.”  
      ”Yes, I know but-“  
      ”Oy! Hal! I think I dropped one of your books. Can ya give me a hand?”  
      By this time Sherlock, curious to know what was taking John so long at the door had appeared behind his husband. Being taller than both John and Hamish, he was able to easily see past them both. He squinted as he pulled a pair of half-moon spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them on.  
      He frowned. Then looked to Hamish, who was trying his best not to panic. “Father, I can explain.”  
      ”No.”  
      ”But-“  
      ”He’s-“  
      By now, Seamus had managed to reach the front door and was smiling from ear to ear, not understanding why his boyfriend taller parent was frowning at him and the shorter one was looking at him in disbelief.  
      But, Hamish had told him to be nice. Not to show his temper. And his mum had always taught him to respect his elders and mind his manners. So, he set down their bags and offered his hand. “Hi,” he said cheerfully.  
      ”Eh… Hi,” John said, taking the hand hessitantly. “You’re-“  
      ”Seamus Murtagh,” he said happily. Hamish was uneasy as Seamus looked up at him. “Oh, I got that book. Thanks for not helping.”  
      Hamish, trying to break the ice and the tension rubbed his hands together. “So, how about a nice drink then? I could kill for a proper cup of tea. Angelo sends his love from the Vatican. Now then, tea. Kitchen this way? Yes. Lets.” He turned to pick up as much of the luggage as he could carry and hurried inside, Seamus right behind him.  
      Sherlock eyed them suspiciously. “Murtagh,” he said darkly as John shut the door.  
      ”He seems… nice enough.”  
      ”I need to talk to Mycroft.”  
      ”Sherlock, no. You’re not going to have our son’s first and probably only boyfriend dissapear. You know how hard it is for you Nymphae to actually find a mate. It could be another sixty years before he gets to-“  
      Sherlock cast his husband a glare and a dark edge to his voice. “Do you know what name _Murtagh_ is a variation of, John?”  
      John sighed. “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”  
      ” **Moriarty**.” With that, Sherlock stalked through the cottage, bypassing the kitchen entirely and locking himself in his study. John was left staring after him, his mind turning over this information only to be interrupted by laughter from the kitchen and the irishman’s voice calling out to him. “Mr. Holmes, John, sir, where do ya keep the sugar?”


	2. Chapter 2

Seamus sat on the couch beside Hamish, who was staring out the window at the beehives at the back of the garden.  
      ”So…” Seamus started. “Bees.” It was clear he was grasping at straws for what to talk about. “Do they really-“  
      ”Yes,” Sherlock said.  
      Seamus tapped his knees with his fingers nervously. Sherlock watched him like a hawk.  
      ”So Hal says you used to be a private eye.”  
      ”Consulting detective,” Sherlock corrected. “How did you become aquainted with my son?”  
      ”Sherlock, you said you’d be nice.”  
      Seamus smiled politely. “Nah,” he said, causing Sherlock to cringe at his incorrect use of grammar. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Hal’s the same way. S’why we’re-“  
      ”Do not elaborate,” Hamish said, still looking out the window at the beehives as if they were the most interresting things on earth. “Answer the question.”  
      Seamus nodded. John noticed how easily the DI complied. Much in a similar manner to himself with Sherlock. “Well,” Seamus said. “It’s kinda funny, that. See, we actually met on a case. My folks hired him to find my sister-“  
      Sherlock interrupted right away with a cold and steady tone. “Hamish, how many times have I instructed you? Never become personally invested in a case.”  
      ”Well, uh…” Seamus started, rubbing the back of his head with his left hand. Hamish, still not looking at the other three occupants of the room, reached over and grabbed his hand without a word. The act did not go unnoticed by his parents. It wasn’t supposed to. Sherlock watched the muscles in his son’s hand tighten as he squeezed Seamus’s. “See, it was a few days after he solved it. I popped ‘round to just say thanks. My folks were really relieved. We all were. And, well, I sort of asked him out for a drink.”  
      ”Just to thank him,” Sherlock said.  
      John lightly touched his husband’s arm and subtly shook his head. “A bit not good, Sherlock,” he said in a low tone.  
      Before Seamus could add to it, Hamish added boredly. “Obviously I accepted, and reciprocated the drinks with dinner the following night. You may ask Angelo for additional details.”  
      Seamus turned pink, averting his eyes from the older men sitting across from him as Hamish squeezed his hand again.  
      The youngest one in the room sighed boredly. “He knows we’re wizards. He’s fine with that. He’s read the books on Nymphae. Can we please just get this awkward holiday over with so we may return to London and I can return to my cases. This is getting tedius and you are both making Seamus very uncomfortable with your suspicous glares that you don’t think you’re giving him.”  
      Seamus turned from pink to red, now turning his face a little as if that may help, which of course it didn’t.  
      ”He’s too old for you,” Sherlock said.  
      This caused both John and surprisingly Hamish to look at him. John in surprise at what Sherlock had just said. Hamish in a silent Holmsian fury. But his voice was calm. A sign John knew to be quite dangerous. It was Draco and Sherlock all over again.  
      ”Seamus is only _ten_ years older than I,” Hamish said. “You are _41_ years older than John. I dare say, for a man over 110 you really should know better than to be calling the kettle black.”  
      ”Okay,” John said, catching the DI’s attention. “I think it’s about time we get another cuppa and watch a bit of telly. Football?”  
      ”Oh god yes,” Seamus said, pulling his hand out of Hamish’s vice grip. The pair of them escaped, barely noticed by their respective geniuses.


	3. From Seamus's Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in response to a question on Tumblr:  
>  _ **What the hell is going on with Hamish and that guy that looks like Moriarty?**_
> 
> This is just a little thing showing Seamus's perspective on this whole wizard thing and his relationship with Sherlock and John's 3rd child.  
> Didn't know where to put it or have it stand alone. Since it mentions meeting Sherlock and John, figured it could work as a part 3 of "Meeting the Parents"

       They had been having a thing for three a months now.  
       It wasn’t really called a relationship. Neither party could really call it that. Seamus had been caught by surprise, finding himself attracted to the detective who had found his missing sister. Less than a week later he was in that man’s home, the detective stradling his lap and hurried hands trying to touch every single piece of flesh they could find. Words mumbled between forceful kisses and a low, guttural growl if he dared break away for air.  
       What they had was… strange. Moreso after he’d been told the consulting detective and his brother were both wizards. He’d moved in after only a month and a half, finding he spent more time at 221B than his own piss-poor flat near Chinatown.  
       Hamish had been kind. Rather, as kind as a seemingly hearltless machine could manage. He’d informed Seamus he had waited a very long time for him to move in, longer than what was proper. Seamus questioned him about what was proper and without hessitation Hamish answered “My parents moved in together after knowing one another only two days.”  
       Seamus never questioned such things again.  
       Not that he complained. He’d been the one to ask the detective out in the first place. Now knowing what he did about him, and his family, he supposed things could have been worse…  
       And it wasn’t like he was getting any younger. Thirty-nine years old, had been single with enough failed relationships to fill a mass grave. All down to his explosive temper.  
       No, he couldn’t really complain. His… whatever he and the detective were, was ten years his junior and very stubborn. Reminding the older inspector constantly that he was far more intrrested in the man from Scotland Yard than those annoying ravers across the street. Or the girl at the market who kept throwing herself at him distastefully.  
       So…  
       When he’d been informed one evening while lounging on the sofa reading a book that he was to meet Hamish’s parents, what else could he do but nod and agree, then ask how much vacation time he would need to put in for.  
                                                   **o0o**  
       After the rather awkward holiday, and watching Hamish and his father… well… the father he looked more like, squabble and fight the entire time, Seamus was glad to be back at Baker Street. Back in their shared bed. Back to his favorite spot on the sofa, and back to normal.  
       Hamish would perch himself on the arm of the sofa, staring at him intensely, but not for any reason. He just happened to be in the line of vision when the man would receed into his Mind Planet. He would bring home cases, or help scrounge some up during a slow period. He’d do the shopping with the youngest Holmes when he was around.  
       He and Hamish would fight. Would shout and scream and have a good long row before an even longer session of very desperate, very loud, very angry apology sex. This was just how they did things. Intensely or not at all.  
       Another month went by, and life was normal. Life was ordered and routine and the minimum requirements (because asking for more than that from Hamish was like trying to get a person of a non-magical inclination to turn themselves into a turnip) of sanity.  
       Things had been going well between the pair of unconventional… well, he still didn’t know what. Sherlock and John had called them _mates_ but he was still a little unclear the context in which they had meant it. He’d even gotten a message at work, telling him to bring home curry from that indian place Hamish occasionally mentioned he might be a little partial to. So he had picked up enough for three, hoping to have some left for lunch the next day.  
       When he let himself into 221 Baker Street with the food, passing by the door to the street level flat belonging to the youngest Holmes, he climbed the stairs two at a time. It had been a quiet day, an easy day of paperwork. A good take away and if things went well a good row before a nice long night in bed. Perfect way to end the day.  
      …Until he saw the giant red wolf stretched out on the sofa, staring straight at the telly as the science channel played on.  
       ”We’re looking after Ange for a few nights. He’s partial to curry when he’s like this,” Hamish said from the kitchen where he was working with his father’s antique microscope. “And don’t change the channel. He gets bitey when you do that. Science keeps the human part of his mind active, allowing him recall more the next day.”  
      ”What fresh hell is this?!”  
      ”I thought you knew.”  
      ”Knew what?!”  
       Hamish never skipped a beat, and didn’t look up as he spoke. “Angelo is a werewolf.”  
       Silently, Seamus opened the take away, left it on a table near the giant dog on his sofa, and turned back to the door.  
       ”Where are you going?” Hamish asked.  
       ”I’m going to get another goddamn curry, and then I’m going to my parents’.”  
       ”But-“  
       ”You call me when this crazy shit is done. Seriously… Wizards, okay. Famous crime solving parents, fine. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are your grandparents… Highly unusual and weird considering they’re fictional-“  
       ”Ginny Weasley’s slander,” Hamish said, looking up from his work.  
       Seamus sighed. “But I will **not** stay in the same bloody flat as a giant dog eating my dinner.”  
       ”What? Why?”  
       ”Because I’m allergic to dogs you flaming idiot!”  
       With that, Seamus stormed back out onto the street. Angelo didn’t do much else but stick his nose in the take away while Hamish processed what had just happened. “Hm… This will require further observation… I need more data…”

**Author's Note:**

> There was actual research done for this.
> 
>  _Seamus_ is an Irish variation of _James_.  
>  _Murtagh_ is an actual Irish variation of _Moriarty_.
> 
> Hamish’s boyfriend/mate is, in fact, from THE Moriarty family. But he doesn’t know it. And he looks a lot like Jim, in fact. Because Jim was his father (dun dun dun!) but he never knew his parents. He was adopted by a very nice N. Irish family who brought him up to be nice, kind and considerate (even if he does have a bit of a temper… Gods, Jim is probably rolling in his grave...) Having been born before The Fall, this would also make Seamus older than Sherlock and John’s twins.
> 
> Seamus is actually a really great muggle. In fact, he’s a Detective Inspector. He can’t help it if his daddy was a psychopath and his mummy was a crazy dark witch nymphae hellbent on marrying then killing John.


End file.
